


Before The Fall

by KyloTrashForever



Series: ABOhHoHo [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (probably), Age Difference, Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Regency, Awesome Leia Organa, Banter, Courting Rituals, DRAMATIC CONFRONTATIONS, Drama & Romance, Elaborate Reconciliation, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Flirty Ben Solo, Historical Inaccuracy, Jealous Ben Solo, Jealous Rey (Star Wars), Kaydel Is Not Very Nice, Knotting, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Omega Rey, Oral Sex, Pride & Prejudice & Heat Smut come to life, Rake!Ben, Reformed Ben Solo, Regency Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “I merely say what’s on my mind, love,” he hums. “Something we both have in common.”She glares openly. “Are you quite finished?”“With you?” His lips curl impossibly wider, and she hates the way it makes her stomach swoop with a fluttering sensation. “That remains to be seen.”In which budding Omega, Rey Kenobi, is entering her first London season in search of a proper suitor, and the rakeish Alpha, Benjamin Solo, is far from suitable—or so she tells herself.***ON INDEFINITE HIATUS***
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: ABOhHoHo [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539175
Comments: 187
Kudos: 755





	1. Are you lost, Miss?

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I would say I'm sorry, but I've been having too much fun writing this to pretend otherwise. Blame (thank?) [this](https://twitter.com/ktf_reylo/status/1283782061434777601?s=21) CC user for whispering in my ear. 😊 
> 
> I’m doing a bit of research as I go along but I’m not holding myself to any sort of strict period-type accuracy, so just look away from any historical inaccuracies. 😂 there weren’t any knots in regency either, but here we are. 

She tells herself that he won’t be there. 

It’s a reasonable assumption, given that he’s most likely lounging about in his own townhouse with some pretty strumpet feeding him cake by hand while thanking him for the opportunity—something that she is only _slightly_ bitter about. It isn’t as if she is actually _bothered_ by the idea of Ben Solo not being there to greet her when she arrives at the Solo’s townhouse. On the contrary, if she never sees Ben Solo _ever_ again, it would be a day too soon. 

She peeks out of the carriage’s little curtain to peer outside at the cobbled streets beyond—the hustle and bustle of London so very different from what she’s accustomed to. The people of the city line the streets on either side, boasting well-dressed gentlemen and dainty ladies in various layers of finery, and Rey finds herself gawking at the lot of them as the carriage continues on down the street. Her traveling clothes feel drab in the midst of this great city, something that she usually doesn’t give much thought to—but watching the well-to-dos pass by the carriage this way and that way has her considering the state of her dress for what might be the first time in years. 

No matter, she thinks. She supposes now she has more than the means to rectify the situation.

The carriage comes to a halt outside of a wide, red brick townhouse along the eastern edge of Grovesvenor square—offering a nice view of the manicured garden in the center of the square that Rey hopes her room will be facing. The green reminds her more of home. Much more so than the clustered buildings and the crowds of people. 

She waits in the body of the carriage for the footman to open the door, taking his offered hand as she steps down to let her feet come to rest on the streets of London for the very first time. She imagines it’s not entirely ladylike, the way she lets her eyes roam from the buildings to the street to the people—but she thinks the fine folks of London will just have to afford her this tiny indiscretion, for she can’t seem to _stop_ gawking. London is just so _big_ , after all. 

It’s an unconscious thing, the way her fingers reach to press to the wide, satin ribbon of soft yellow at her throat that matches her dress—testing without realizing that it is secure, that she won’t be embarrassing herself straight away with something as scandalous as a bare gland for all of London to see. At home such a thing was much less of a worry, no one coming to call, no prying eyes for miles—but here things are different, Rey knows. Here, a tiny slip could bring a world of embarrassment down on her head, not to mention those who have so graciously taken her in.

The footman is unloading her bags from the carriage when the front door of the townhouse opens wide, yielding a tiny woman in a fine half-dress of deep violet and matching bonnet pinned to her hair. It has been years since Rey has seen Leia’s face, but her smile is just as kind as Rey remembers, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she extends her arms in an informal greeting that feels too casual for someone as put together as she is. 

The smaller women’s hands grab for Rey’s as if Rey is some long lost daughter and not a ward thrust upon their family at a moment’s notice—curling them around Rey’s fingers as she offers her that same pleasant smile. 

“Rey, dear,” Leia greets warmly. “It is so good to see your face again.” Leia’s eyes roam down the length of her. “Look how you’ve grown! Always said you’d grow to be as pretty as a peach, did you know? Just look at you.”

Rey feels her cheeks heat under such praise, bowing her head in thanks. “You’re too kind, ma’am.”

“Oh, posh,” Leia tuts, pulling her up the steps towards the front door as she leads her inside the foyer. “I won’t be having any of this _ma’am_ nonsense. Aunt Leia will do just fine. Besides that, how was your trip? Was the weather terrible? You know we’ve had quite a bit of rain of late. I was saying to Han just the other day that we—”

“Let the poor girl breathe, love,” a deeper voice chuckles behind Leia. 

Rey notices Mr. Solo approaching, and she quickly grabs for her skirt to offer a curtsy as he nears. “Mr. Solo,” she greets. 

He gives her a polite nod as he lets a hand rest at the small of his wife’s back. “She’s had a long journey, Leia. We should let her get settled before you bombard her with questions about every single thing that she’s done since you last saw her.”

“Oh, all right,” Leia hmphs. She gives Rey an apologetic look. “Do forgive me, dear. I have been simply beside myself with excitement for your arrival.” She reaches out to pat a hand against Rey’s cheek. “We were so fond of your father. Such a good man, Obi. I’m happy that we can be here for you with his passing.”

Rey feels emotions thick and heavy in her chest at the mention of her late father, managing a nod as she tries not to let it show on her face. “I am forever grateful for your kindness,” she tells them both quietly. “My father often spoke of you both. He so wanted to visit more in recent years, but with his failing health…”

“Think nothing of it,” Leia assures her. “I can only imagine what a struggle the last few years have been, caring for your father as you were and missing out on your debut for so many years! Why, you are already so behind, dearest, and with such a pretty face! Absolute waste, I tell you. I will make sure to give you a proper outing to society. Mark my words, love, before the fall comes we’ll have you matched up properly, you’ll see.”

Rey tries not to bristle at Leia’s casual mention of _matching her up_ —the subject still a sore one even after the four years since her father last tried to strike up a match for his only daughter. One that had ended in heartache and left Rey less than interested in the whole ordeal. 

She offers Leia a polite smile in lieu of answering, unsure of how to tell her new caretakers that she would rather pin a bonnet to a horse than be forced to mingle with well-dressed Alpha’s eyeing her like a prize to be won. She knows such a thing is inevitable now, and she’s made peace with that. For the most part.

“Mr. Threepio,” Han calls, summoning a tall, thin man with eyes that seem almost too wide for his face.

The tall man gives a slight bow at the waist, his gloved hand pressed to his clean, black suit. “Sir?”

“Show Ms. Kenobi to her room, would you? I’m sure she’s very tired after her trip.” Han gives his attention to Rey. “We’ve sent up some fresh water for you to freshen up, if you like. Our cook, Mrs. Kanata, is already working up dinner.”

“Roasted pheasant,” Leia exclaims delightedly. “In honor of your arrival.”

Rey gives her another smile. “Oh, you needn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Leia chides. “I’ll hear nothing of it. We’ve all been longing for a bit of excitement, mind you. With that bullheaded son of mine hardly ever coming to call on his poor mother…”

Rey tries to sound casual. “Oh? Is Ben staying in London as well?”

“Oh, yes,” Leia answers. “Bought himself a lovely townhouse near Hyde Park. He keeps a residence there nearly year-round! Hardly even comes out to the country with us in the fall anymore. Can you imagine my poor nerves? Honestly, you raise them the best you can, and the thanks you get—”

“Now, now, Leia,” Han chuckles. “I’m sure Rey isn’t interested in the antics of our wiley son.” He cocks an eyebrow in Rey’s direction. “Ben will be joining us for dinner as well.”

Rey’s heart instantly begins to race, and it takes all she has to keep her expression passive, to not let it show. “Wonderful,” she says only a little dryly. “It will be… nice to see him again.”

Leia frowns. “I hope you aren’t cross with him for his ghastly behavior concerning your—”

“No,” Rey says quickly. “No, of course not.” She pastes on a smile, but there’s another unconscious brush of her fingers against the satin at her throat. “Water under the bridge, I assure you.”

 _Hardly,_ she thinks.

But they needn’t know that. 

“Good.” Leia lets out a relieved sigh. “I hoped it wouldn’t be awkward between the two of you. I do hope you’ll get along, considering we’ll all be moving in the same social circles for the rest of the season.”

She has no desire to be in _any_ circle with Benjamin Solo—but that’s hardly something she can actually say. 

“Of course,” Rey assures her. 

“Right then,” Leia says with a grin of her own, patting Rey’s hand. “Let’s get you settled into your room, hm?”

Rey lets Leia lead her towards the staircase, following Mr. Threepio as he carries Rey’s bags and decidedly _not_ thinking about the inevitability of being face to face with Han and Leia’s son again.

Mostly. 

* * *

Her room is much bigger than the one she left behind. At least twice the size, she thinks. 

The windows boast elaborate curtains of the same fabric as the bed hangings that adorn her wide four-poster—an ornate wardrobe on the opposite wall wide enough to hold a dozen dresses, most likely. A little mahogany sitting table rests in the corner where a basin of water and clean clothes rest, and Rey finds herself itching to clean away the bit of sweat that still clings to her nape from the long journey from her old home. 

“Lovely, isn’t it?” 

Leia steps across the room to thrust open the curtains and let some light in, Rey following after her to peek out the window, happy to learn that her room _does_ offer a nice view of the square below. “It is,” Rey agrees. 

“We’re just renting, of course,” Leia tells her. “But it’s made for a nice stay for the last few months. Pity that you’ve arrived so late in the season. Not that our home in the country is any less lovely, mind you. You’ll love the garden there! Why, just last winter, I had—” Leia shuts her mouth suddenly, offering Rey a sheepish grin. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? You’ll have to forgive me, dear. Mr. Solo is about as conversational as a teapot. I love him, Lord knows I do, but, well…” She gives Rey’s hand another pat. “I was so looking forward to your company, is all.”

“I’m happy to be here,” Rey tells her honestly. “I’ve always wanted to visit London.”

“Such a shame, your father’s illness,” Leia sighs. “You are such a brave girl, caring for him all on your own.”

Rey presses her lips together briefly. “He’s all I had,” she says quietly. “With my mother passing when I was young…”

Leia’s hand cups Rey’s cheek. “Bless you, dear. I am happy that we have the opportunity to be the people who take care of _you_ for a change.”

“I am forever in your debt,” Rey answers quietly. 

“Nonsense.” Leia purses her lips. “Happy to do it. We loved your father like our own, and we love you much the same.”

That same welling emotion threatens to burble up in her chest, and Rey has to force it down just so that she doesn’t choke on it, managing a quiet smile as Leia gives her a determined nod. 

“Right then,” the older woman goes on. “I will give you a bit of privacy. Let you dress for dinner.”

“I hope I have something appropriate,” Rey grimaces. “Dresses were… the least of our worries in the years of late.”

“No need to stand on ceremony,” Leia tells her. “I’m sure whatever you have is fine. We’ll get you some appropriate dresses this week.” Leia gives an excited little clap of her hands. “Heaven knows I never need an excuse to go shopping.”

Rey’s smile is a little less sure now, the idea of being poked and prodded and _fitted_ less than desirable.

“Come down whenever you’re ready, dear,” Leia tells her. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”

Rey assures her that she will come down after she’s washed a bit and changed, and Leia leaves her alone in her new room. Rey lets her eyes roam about the space as she lets it all sink in, letting the ultimate truths of her new life take root inside to ground her. That her father is dead, that she is now in the care of people she hasn’t seen in nearly a decade, that their son evokes frightfully strong feelings in her—ones she can’t pin down as positive or negative on any given day—and that in less than an hour she will be face to face with him for the first time since she was twelve years old. 

Surely _this_ won’t end in disaster.

Right.

* * *

She went with one of her nicer dresses that she reserved for Sunday service, still not nearly as fine as the one Leia had been wearing but a good step above her traveling clothes, at the very least. The rich blue material makes her skin look paler than it is, hides the slight color in her skin that comes from days spent in the garden back home. Something she’s noticing isn’t commonplace in London. She’s smoothing down her skirt as she descends the stairs in search of the dining room, her chest tight with nerves at the idea of sitting through a meal with Ben Solo after so long, hoping that she will be able to get through it without making him privy to _all_ her opinions on his person—and perhaps it is this that has her distracted when she rounds the stairs towards the hall that she thinks leads to the dining room. 

Maybe it is the buzzing in her own head that keeps her from hearing the footsteps approaching behind, maybe it is the racing of her own thoughts that makes her unaware of the massive body nearing until the moment a large hand presses gently at the small of her back. She makes a sound of surprise as she spins on her heel, turning until she’s looking up and up and _up_ into dark hair and darker eyes and a mouth that is full and pink and curled slightly with interest. 

More than all of this is his _scent_ —thick and heady like warm spice as it tickles her nostrils and floods her lungs with every inhale. She tries to hold her breath against it even as it makes her stomach flutter, pressing her back against the wall to try and put distance between them. 

“Are you lost, Miss?”

She thought she’d been prepared to see him again—but standing face to face with him now, she realizes all at once she could _never_ be prepared to see him again. Not really.

She finds words a little difficult now in the presence of someone so inherently _Alpha._ More so than she could have ever appreciated when she was younger. “No, I—”

“I wasn’t aware my parents had an Omega on staff,” he says quietly. “Especially one so lovely.”

She can’t help the way her fingers reach for the satin at her throat, his eyes resting there with casual interest. Of _course_ that is the source of his interest. Suddenly Rey feels her skin prickling with irritation at his suggestive tone. She crosses her arms against her chest, trying to ignore the way it still feels as if the weight of his hand rests against the small of her back. “I would ask you not to touch me so _familiarly_ , Ben Solo.”

She watches surprise color his features, his brows shooting up at her forceful tone. “Someone has quite the mouth on her,” he laughs. “While we’re on the topic of familiarity, might I ask how you have my name when I can’t recall ever giving it?”

She scoffs under her breath. “You claim not to know me then?”

“I’m afraid I’m completely at a loss, my dear,” he says warmly. His eyes dip down the front of her before making a slow path back up to her face. “I daresay I’d _like_ to though.”

She feels heat creeping up her neck to flood her cheeks, and she grits her teeth as she pokes a finger at his chest. “ _That’s_ laughable considering your last assessment of me. What was the phrase you used?” She cocks her head, pretending to think about it before she huffs, “Oh, right. A _skinny little wisp of a girl.”_

His brows furrows as he considers her barb, eyes searching her face for a good number of seconds before a quiet, “Rey?”

“Oh, caught on, have you?”

His eyes rake down the length of her again with a more careful eye this time. “You can’t be the little knob-kneed thing I met in Malvern all those years ago.”

She narrows her eyes, keeping her arms crossed tight against her chest as if it will somehow protect her from his wandering eyes. “I was _twelve_ . Heaven forbid I _grow.”_

“And how you’ve grown,” he murmurs appreciatively, still eyeing her dress and making that same heat lick at her neck. 

“You’ll forgive me if I am less than pleased to be in your company again,” she grumbles.

Despite everything, Ben gives her a wide grin, only worsening the flushed state of her skin. “I see that you still say every little thing that pops into your head.”

“Only when _you’re_ around, it seems,” she smarts.

“I am honored to elicit such an emotional response.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she bites back. “A flea would evoke such a response from a dog.”

“And are you the dog in this scenario?”

Her lips purse with annoyance. “I am indebted to your mother and father for their kindness,” she tells him, “but I do not pretend to have any of the same care for _you_ , Benjamin Solo. I think you can understand why.”

“Surely you aren’t sore because I didn’t—”

“I give you very little thought, Ben,” she interrupts, straightening her skirt if only to give her cause for distraction so that she doesn’t take a deep lungful of his maddening scent that even now makes her a little lightheaded. “You would do well to remember that.”

He’s still smiling when she looks back up, still studying her like some sort of puzzle he’d like to sort out—and Rey clears her throat as she steps away from him to put much needed distance between them. “Your mother will be expecting us.”

“By all means, love, lead the way,” he says with an extension of his hand. 

“Miss Kenobi will be fine,” she grinds out.

She turns on her heel to stomp past him, and his low chuckle makes her bristle, but not as much as his quiet: “Just as well. The view from back here is much better.”

She picks up her pace, telling herself it wouldn’t do well to strike the son of the people who’ve so kindly taken her in.

As tempting as it may be.

* * *

Dinner goes just as well as she might expect—prodding conversation about her life thus far and her home back in Malvern that she had been more than happy to answer, for the most part. 

It’s just that she could _feel_ Ben’s eyes on her. Even when she didn’t want to.

She’s been trying her best to push the events of dinner from her mind now that she’s safe in her room—trying not to dwell on the way Ben’s eyes had dwelled on _her_ for most of the meal. 

She’d managed to remain civil, focusing her attention on Han and Leia and only speaking to Ben when absolutely necessary—something that he took it upon himself to make increasingly hard, given that he saw fit to assert himself into every topic that happened to arise between courses. That enticing charm that had once put stars in her eyes still lives and breathes as it ever did, but now it only puts her on edge, makes her skin prickle and her hackles rise. 

And apparently for as long as she is in London—Ben will simply be a part of the experience.

Wonderful.

She takes a deep breath as she opens one of her bags to pull out a tiny wooden box, one bearing her family name that her father whittled for her as a present when she was only ten. She runs her fingers across the top as she carries it across the room to let it rest on the little table, opening it up to sift through the items inside. A folded piece of parchment lays at the bottom, one that makes her nose wrinkle as she runs her fingers across the top, forever wondering why she even still keeps it, given the irritation it brings. 

She passes it by, sweeping her mother’s necklace out of the way, making a space there in the box as she purses her lips and reaches into her corset to fish out a worn piece of fabric of a soft, threadbare blue that has been tucked there for most of the day. She rubs her thumb across the top as she assesses the old bit of cloth—her jaw working subtly as she wonders for what must be the hundredth time why she still keeps it on her person day after day. Wonders why she still keeps it at _all_ , really. 

She huffs out a breath as she shoves it into the box, slamming the lid shut and packing it away along with all the lingering vexation left behind by one _not-so-_ gentleman and his lingering stares and his loaded words. 

She won’t pretend it doesn’t give her a tiny bit of satisfaction, his obvious and quick interest in her; she supposes it is merely her wounded pride that revels in such a thing. It isn’t as if she actually _wants_ Ben’s attention, no, far from it. She wants absolutely nothing to do with Ben Solo. A fact that she suspects she will need to remind herself of frequently for the foreseeable future. 

Something she’s more than willing to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sheer _volume_ of flirting this Ben is going to rain down on poor Rey 😂🤧


	2. So Easily Bothered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I forgot to mention on the last chapter because I posted it at my bedtime and am really just overall human garbage but shoutout to the entire slew of people who listened to me babble about this for days and/or looked over what I had: @jennatvlover, @rachelcabbit, @violethoure666, @likeadove_, and of course Jenfysnest and Katieitemee (but poor Jen and Katie has to look at everything I do).
> 
> ALSO huge shoutout to PoetHrotsvitha for beta'ing and heavily helping with the historical aspect she is a wizard that I do not deserve <3

“Now, we’ll need stockings, gloves, hats... So it will be the milliner’s first, I think. It’s just down the street here, dear.” She gives Rey a worried side glance. “Oh, but don’t be alarmed by Mr. Tarkin, Rey.”

“Alarmed?”

“He’s rather thin,” Leia tells her. “How should I say… Well. Many would say he more resembles the dead than the living, dear. I think it’s the pallor, if you ask me. Poor man could use a bit of _sun_ —but nevertheless. He makes a fine hat.”

Rey follows after Leia as she mutters about everything she wants to buy that day—about trips to the hosier and the cobbler’s and what have you—trying not to feel like a burden at the idea of being so pampered after only a week of being in the Solo’s care. Chandlers Street is only a few blocks away from the Solo’s townhouse, and it is just as bustling here as it is near home. People crowd the streets going this way and that way, so thick that Rey finds herself near-touching most passerby as she struggles to keep her hands clasped politely around her reticule in the hopes that she doesn’t bump into someone accidentally.

The shops lining this street are painted with bright colors and vibrant signs—the windows boasting silver trinkets and wooden utensils nestled in velvet just begging to be looked at. Rey passes a window display with nothing but an entire shelf of elegant-looking pocket-watches, one reminding her heavily of the one she keeps in the little carved box back in her room, one that had belonged to her father. It makes her chest pang with a brief flare of loss at the memory of it. 

“—and of _course_ we will be getting you matching ribbons,” Leia is saying, drawing Rey out of her inner musings.

“Aunt Leia, there’s really no need for you to spend so much,” Rey tries to protest for what must be the dozenth time that afternoon. “Father left a considerable amount he’d saved for me. Please, at least allow me to—”

“I won’t hear of it,” Leia shushes her. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve longed to spoil a daughter?” She curls her hand beneath Rey’s arm to keep her close. “You’re doing this old woman a favor.”

“Perhaps I could at least—”

“Shush, child,” Leia tuts. “Now, I think the dressmaker’s first. Get your measurements. Perhaps we can have them delivered this week! You’ll need something pretty to wear for Brendol’s ball next week, I think.”

“Brendol?”

“Brendol Hux,” Leia clarifies. She lowers her voice to add, “Rotten to the core, the lot of them, but they throw a marvelous party.” She pats Rey’s hand. “I plan to make it your debut of sorts. Already spoken with Maratelle just the other day. Stern woman, that one. Can’t say I blame her with all the nasty rumors.”

“Rumors?”

“Their son, Armitage,” Leia whispers conspiratorially. “It’s said he belongs to some kitchen maid Brendol had an affair with years ago. Scandalous, really. Still, since he’s the only male heir Brendol has…”

Rey can’t help but wonder if anything happens in this city that Leia doesn’t know about. 

“Nevertheless,” Leia barrels on, turning her face to study the shop signs. “Everyone who’s anyone will be there. It will be a marvelous occasion to get you out in society.” Leia grins to herself. “I imagine they’ll be lining up to talk to a pretty thing like you.”

Rey’s cheeks heat in a blush. “I’m afraid I’m not used to such attention.”

“Well,” Leia chuckles. “No time like the present.”

She doesn’t _want_ to ask, she really doesn’t—but the question is there on her tongue, thick and heavy as it begs to be let out. “I suppose Ben will be attending as well?”

“Of course,” Leia tells her. “I was so happy to see the two of you getting along at dinner the other night. Can’t tell you how worried I was.” She heaves a sigh. “I so wished that things might have been different. Perhaps now that you’re of age, Ben might see—”

“Ben made himself quite clear years ago, Aunt Leia,” Rey interrupts in a clipped tone that barely contains her disdain. “I have no wish to revisit the past.”

“Right,” Leia offers quietly. “Do forgive me, dear.”

“No forgiveness is necessary,” Rey assures her.

There is a bit of quiet as they stroll closer to their first destination, one that is only broken when Leia offers a chuckle before speaking up again. “If you don’t mind me saying, dear, I have to say that it is entirely my son’s loss.”

Rey grins despite herself. “I don’t mind you saying it at all.”

Another pat at Rey’s hand. “Perhaps when he sees how much attention will be lavished on you once you’re out in society, he will have a nice healthy serving of crow to chew down.”

She tugs on Rey’s arm to steer inside a nearby shop, and Rey tries not to think about the aforementioned _attention._

Not, she thinks, that it isn’t inevitable either way. 

* * *

Rey is fitted for a dozen new dresses before they leave the first shop; she spent at least an hour browsing the catalogues kept on hand (Leia insisted that she see them _all_ because how else could she know which ones she liked best?), perusing various shades of cotton voile, batiste, and muslin—even a good number of silks passed under her fingers as Leia oohed and aahed over her shoulder. By the end of the visit Rey had sequestered herself to the small parlour, sipping at complimentary cups of tea offered to her and studying the intricate wallpaper while Leia took free rein of the remaining decisions concerning her purchases like some sort of General of dress-making. Rey was more than content to let her, given that Leia seems to know more about fashion than even the dressmakers themselves.

She tries not to think about how much Leia had spent on such a bounty. It still makes her uncomfortable, having someone else dote on her as the Solos seem so content to do—but she can tell that Leia had been genuine when she had said that it’s something she’s happy to do. She thinks _Leia_ had more fun in that first shop than Rey ever could, and Rey is happy to do whatever makes Leia happy if she’s being honest. She owes her that much. 

They have already purchased matching bonnets, hats, scarves, and underthing—the promise of said items to be delivered later that day—and they find themselves now in a shop that is bursting at the seams with ribbons and trimmings of every color, size and material that Rey could ever think of. Leia assures her that these ribbons will make or break a dress, and while Rey can’t really see what all the fuss is about, she is again content to do whatever makes Leia happy. 

She feigns interest while the store attendant shows them ribbon after ribbon, oohing and aahing when appropriate as Leia adds more and more to her basket for purchase. She blushes only a little when her neck is measured for more satin ribbons to match her dresses so that she can continue to keep her glands appropriately covered—reaching there after to ensure that her _current_ ribbon is still firmly in place when the attendant moves on to jot down her measurements. 

She’s running her finger along one soft length of ribbon on the wall as Leia busies herself elsewhere, rubbing her thumb across the silky material if only to feel it beneath her fingers. A throat clearing behind her makes her start slightly, and she turns to notice a man not much taller than she is offering her a kind smile, one that is easy on the eyes, if Rey is being fair. His dark hair is styled in artful waves and compliments his emerald green waistcoat, and his eyes linger on Rey for only a moment before giving his attention to Leia who has noticed his presence. 

“Mrs. Solo,” he greets. “I thought that was you. A pleasure running into you again.”

“Oh, Mr. Dameron! It is lovely to see you again as well. I thought you were in Paris?”

“Just returned this week,” Mr. Dameron tells her. His eyes flick to pass over Rey again as his smile widens. “And it seems I have returned just in time to meet a new acquaintance, I hope?”

“Oh, yes, forgive me,” Leia says in acquiescence. “Might I introduce you to Mr. Solo’s and my new ward, Miss Rey Kenobi? She’s just come to live with us all the way from Malvern. Rey dear, this is Mr. Poe Dameron.”

“Miss Kenobi,” Mr. Dameron echoes, pulling off his hat to bow his head before holding out his hand in offering to let Rey place it there. He brings her gloved hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to her knuckles, and Rey finds herself smiling at the pleasantry, unused to such attention. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Sir,” Rey offers.

She can’t deny that Poe Dameron is handsome, and there is a lingering scent of something like strong tea hanging in the air that speaks of Alpha pheromones, the scent pleasant even if not as overwhelming and all-encompassing as Ben’s had been. Not that she wants to be thinking of _Ben Solo_ just now. 

Poe straightens to tuck his hat beneath his arm. “And how are you enjoying London, Miss Kenobi?”

“It is much bigger than Malvern, at the very least,” she tells him.

Poe chuckles as he nods his head. “That it is. I hope the pair of you will be attending the ball at Brendol Hux’s townhouse?”

“Of course,” Leia informs him. “Rey here will be making a debut of sorts there. Poor thing has never experienced a proper London season. I’ll be remedying that the best I can in our last weeks here before returning to the country.”

“How fortunate for the rest of us,” Poe murmurs with a glint in his eye, holding Rey’s gaze.

She feels herself blush under his attention, tucking her chin as she bites back a grin of her own. “You’re too kind.”

“I am but truthful,” he assures her. “However I fear I have taken up enough of your time! I have it on good authority that a woman’s shopping is not to be trifled with.”

“Quite right you are,” Leia chuckles. “We look forward to seeing you at the ball.”

“Likewise,” Poe says with a tip of his hat before perching it back on his head. “Until then, ladies.”

They both watch him stroll out of the shop to the street beyond, and Leia hardly even waits until the door closes behind him before she leans in with a gleeful expression. “Not even fully _out_ and already the suitors trip over themselves for only a word from you. How _fun_ these last few weeks will be.”

Rey isn’t sure she can agree with that, even this minuscule interaction is enough to leave her flushed, but she keeps the smile on her face for Leia’s benefit. “I am sure he was only being kind, Aunt Leia.”

“You are too modest dear,” Leia chides. “A good quality, to be sure, but perhaps you should invest in a better mirror? I look at your face and see nothing but a loveliness that others will be beside themselves for a glance at. Mark my words.”

Rey says nothing, not really knowing what it is that she can say to such praise. 

“Now dear, we still need to visit the cobblers. We’re making excellent time, I must say. Why, we’ll be home before afternoon tea!”

Rey doesn’t tell her she’s more than ready to be done with all this, merely smiling and nodding along happily as Leia busies herself with paying for their purchases. 

She can’t help but think of the way Poe had smiled at her, can’t help but compare it against Leia’s assurances of suitors _tripping_ over themselves.

She can’t help but wonder if there might be any _other_ Alphas in particular who might do the same. 

Not that she cares. 

* * *

By the time the pair of them return to the townhouse nearly an hour later—Rey is the proud new owner of an entirely _new_ high-quality wardrobe that is finer than anything Rey has ever _seen_ , much less owned. 

It isn’t that her family is— _was,_ she supposes—poor, by any means, it is simply that in the country there was hardly any use for such things. Her days were spent tending her little garden, sitting at her father’s bedside, perhaps reading when she found the time—her only outings to be had were Sunday service, and even then it was not call for much ado in the countryside as they were—dresses and ribbons were the least of her worries. 

But London, it seems, is very different from home. 

Her new things have been assured to arrive by the end of the week, at the very latest, something she suspects Leia paid extra for—and she tries not to dwell on how much of the Solo’s coin was spent on her today. She thinks she will _never_ get used to _that_.

She’s found a quiet corner of the library to curl up in while she awaits dinner, lounging on a fine settee near the window to soak up the warmth of the afternoon sun streaming in as she thumbs through a nice copy of _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ to pass the time. It’s something she’s read before—a few times, actually, but she likes the familiarity of it, having fond memories of being curled up just like this at her father’s bedside as she read him to sleep. 

The door to the library is ajar, not that Rey notices with the way her nose is practically buried in her book—so she doesn’t notice at first, the way the gap widens to yield a large body, the way said body leans against the frame to watch her quietly for several moments. 

It isn’t until he speaks that she realizes he’s even there. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

She purses her lips without looking at him, merely turning her page to continue reading and not giving him her full attention. “Perhaps if you would stop sneaking up on me, we wouldn’t.”

“You can hardly call moving about my family’s house _sneaking_ , now can you,” Ben laughs.

“I was led to believe that you were scarce in your movements about their house as of late,” Rey hmphs. “It was a great comfort to me.”

“Perhaps their house has simply become more interesting as of late,” he counters.

She lets her book fall in her lap, finally giving him a stern glance. “Do you delight in bothering me?”

“It does make for an interesting passing of the time, yes,” he quips. “Besides, you are so easily _bothered_.”

“Only by you,” she grumbles, picking up her book again.

He doesn’t move from the door frame, but she can still feel his eyes on her, and even from across the room his scent has begun to tickle at her nostrils to fill her lungs. It takes all she has not to visibly react to it. 

“I heard an interesting rumor today,” Ben tells her after a handful of moments.

“I can imagine you hear all sorts of rumors with the company you keep.”

“And how would you know what sort of company I keep, Rey?”

“I told you Miss Kenobi will be fine,” she huffs.

“The question remains the same, _Miss_ Kenobi.”

“One hears things,” she mutters. “It isn’t as if you’ve done anything to be _discreet_ about it.”

“Ah, so you’ve discussed me then,” he teases with a smile in his voice. “Can’t help yourself, can you.”

She rolls her eyes without looking up from her book. “Can’t help but be assaulted by the retellings of your rakish antics.”

“All this to say you have not asked me what rumor I heard,” he points out. “Aren’t you curious?”

“I believe I said that I think very little about you, Benjamin Solo. I was quite clear about that.”

“I shall tell you anyway,” he says with an amused tone. “I’m told Poe Dameron was practically fawning over you at Monsieur Mothma’s Ribbon Shop. Is that true?”

“I fail to see how that’s any concern of _yours_ ,” she says pointedly. 

“I am simply concerned for your well-being,” Ben says with mock-sincerity. “We are practically family, after all.”

“Family,” she half-snorts. “You would do well to concern yourself with those who actually want it, Ben. I assure you, I am not one of them.”

“Must you be so vicious with me?”

She puts down her book again, shooting him a glare. “Must you continue to plague me with your presence and give me the opportunity?”

“Come now, Rey,” he says with a smile. “There’s no reason for barbs.”

She narrows her eyes even as she begrudgingly finds herself noticing the way his waistcoat hugs his wide shoulders, the way it tapers down to a fitted waist that shouldn’t draw her eye but just _does_ , and what’s worse—she thinks Ben doesn’t miss it, if his widening grin is any indication. 

“I only thought it might be worth mentioning how _fortunate_ Poe Dameron might find himself to gain your affection,” Ben says casually. “Given that his family name is worth much less than yours.”

“What a rude thing to say,” Rey scoffs. “He was the perfect gentleman, I’ll have you know. Unlike _some_ people.”

“I merely say what’s on my mind, love,” he hums. “Something we both have in common.”

“I’ll ask you again not to address me so _familiarly,”_ she huffs. 

“What is more familiar than family?”

She actively _drops_ her book on the settee, untucking her legs from beneath her to swing them around the side so that she can glare at Ben more openly. “Are you quite finished?”

“With you?” His lips curl impossibly wider, and she hates the way it makes her stomach swoop with a fluttering sensation. “That remains to be seen.”

“If you think you can just waltz in here and express _interest_ in me after you made it _quite_ clear that you—”

“Perhaps times change,” he interrupts, his warm gaze sweeping down the length of her before climbing higher to rest on her face. “I concern myself with things that are interesting, _Miss_ Kenobi.” That same wicked grin. “And I happen to find you _quite_ interesting.”

She rises to her full height, smoothing her skirt and averting her gaze even as she feels heat creeping up over her cheeks. “Well, I can't pretend to share the sentiment.”

She still doesn’t meet his gaze, grabbing for her book and tucking it under her arm with the intention of finding a _quieter_ spot elsewhere—but she doesn’t need to, really. She can still _feel_ his eyes on her. Something that is becoming a staple for their interactions. 

“We’ll see,” he murmurs, the lowness of his voice like honey that she can almost _feel_ dripping down her spine as she suppresses a shiver. “Until next time, Rey.”

She grits her teeth to finally glare up at him only to catch his retreating figure as he leaves the room. “It’s _Miss_ Kenobi!”

She thinks she can hear his laughter all the way to the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> family is close but it's knot close enough for Benjamin :')

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> 


End file.
